The Music Teacher's Daughter
by Elaine Kaelar
Summary: Updated. Hope's family is wrenched apart as she and her mom move to a new state.
1. Chapter 1

_A/n- Long time, no see. My other story, which has not been updated here in forever, is currently at a 200+ page clusterf *** stage. However, I met a new character today, and thought I would share her. _

* * *

I looked back at my house one last time before getting into the car. Well, what was my house. It's not mine anymore. I'm moving to Alabama.

My mom was busy sweeping through the rooms, making sure we had everything that made the house ours. I saw her looking at her cell phone so often, I was pretty sure she was going to wear the battery out before Dad even got home. I looked down at the contents of the box I was carrying as I set it into the back of the car. This was my box, filled with some of my most prized possessions; a signed drum head my mom had given me, some posters, sticks, and books that I couldn't be without. Oh yeah. I'm a drummer.

My mom is a music teacher. A good one. But then, so is my Dad. She was Supreme Chief Commander of All Things Band at the high school she taught at. Her high school won award after award for its symphonic and jazz bands. Her real passion though, was her marching band. My dad often joked about how the boosters were going to need to build a new shed just for all the plastic they collected. But it went further than that. The band kids at Cedar Springs adored my mom. She got them to do things that not even their parents could implement. The band room was always spotless, the kids never talked when she did, and everyone, guard, woodwinds, drums and brass, worked their tails off.

My dad is definitely the quieter of my parents. He teaches at one of the middle schools in town. He loves his kids too. Most of them, anyway. He is the president of my mom's high school boosters, so he gets to have them for essentially seven years. My mom jokes about how her school would be nothing without the excellent training that her feeder kids got, but it's true. Most of the highest ensembles are filled with Cherry Street alumni.

My mom came out of the house for the last time. Her face lit up as my dad's car zoomed into the driveway. She all but spear tackled him as he got out. I followed behind slowly. My life as I knew it was changing.

Maybe I imagined that I saw my dad hold my mom a little bit longer than he usually did. Probably not though. She was going to miss him even more than I was, which was saying a lot. I'm a total Daddy's Girl. Dad wasn't coming to Alabama with us.

I heard my parents trying to joke about it, saying that it was Dad's turn to fulfill a contract, but I wasn't sure of all the particulars. All I knew was that Dad had to stay in California to teach another year at the middle school while Mom was transferred out to a new high school in Alabama. I was going with Mom.

It was June. School had just got out. My brother, Matt, had just graduated from Cedar Springs, and was already moved in for Everydays. After tour this summer, he was going off to college. Between corps and living in the dorms, he would never live with us again, other than on holidays. I missed him already, and it had only been a week since he left for Memorial Day Camp. I had helped him pack up his room and put everything into storage. When he came back from Finals in August, all he had to do was throw his boxes and his duffle in his truck, with his trumpet, and drive off into the sunset. The cool thing about having you brother as one of your best friends is that he was always around. Until he decided to grow up and move out. I thought he had it easy, not having to be there for the final day where we were remotely together as a family before we were all scattered to the winds. I would have taken 12 hour rehearsal days over this.

Dinner that night was not fun. We went out to eat, since we no longer had a house. My dad had put all of his stuff in storage with Matt's, because he was going on tour too, as staff. He would come back in August and rent a small apartment for the year, until the following May when he could come back to us. I thought about how long away that was, trying to keep my mind off of the uncomfortable silence that lay over the table. Even though we were at our favorite restaurant, I couldn't quite manage to eat much. I ended up just pushing most of the food around on my plate. Besides, this was the place that Matt and I usually shared the combo platter that served ten between just the two of us.

We left right after dinner. Mom and I were driving the whole way, through the desserts of Arizona and New Mexico, the pit hole of Texas, and eventually into Alabama. I was not impressed with the route. I was used to heat, living in California most of my life. Dessert and cacti for ever and ever though, didn't sound remotely enticing. Mom didn't look thrilled about it either, especially the driving through Texas part. The only thing she was looking forward to, I was willing to bet, was seeing some of her old friends along the way. We would stay at their houses instead of hotels.

In a way I was proud of my mom, as she left. She kissed my dad one last time, whispering something in his ear that made him smile and kiss the top of her forehead. He held her for just a while longer, before they broke apart. She walked over to the car and got in, not looking back once. I ran over to my dad and threw my arms around him.

"I need you to take care of your mom for me," he said, hugging me tight. "She'll need you out there in the backwoods of nowhere." I snorted. I was pretty sure that my mother had never needed any help from anyone in her entire life. "She'll need you, just wait," he said again, stroking my hair. "Try not to make life any harder for her?" His green eyes stared down into mine, demanding that I promise. I couldn't manage to say anything, so I just kind of gulped and nodded. "I'll talk to you every day during my lunch. You should be out of school by then over there." I still wasn't able to say anything, so I nodded again. "I love you, Hope. I'll see you on the field." I couldn't stop the tears anymore. They splashed onto his shirtfront.

"I love you too, Daddy." He let me go, and I tried to be brave like Mom and not look back, but I couldn't help but turn and wave to him as I walked to the car. I got in, and watched him wave to us in the rearview mirror until we turned the corner and he disappeared from view.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/n- Merry Non Denomenational Winter Holiday! J/k... So this turned out not to be a oneshot after all, just like I knew it would. _

* * *

I endured the uncomfortable silence with my mother for about ten minutes, but after that, exhaustion took over. There is only so much stress a person can take, and I thankfully fell asleep. I remember waking up a little as my mother turned on some music to help her stay awake, but I've had fifteen years practice of sleeping through music, so it wasn't a big deal to fall back asleep.

My mom and I have never been what you would call close. She always got along better with Matt, who had the same single-minded commitment to excellence and whose life motto was "get shit done." We got along, mostly, as long as we didn't spend too much time with each other. I think in most cases, we were just too much alike, and like the same side of a magnet, repelled each other when pushed too close. Oh yeah. Mom's a drummer too.

We must have made excellent time, because when I woke up around six in the morning, I saw signs for the Grand Canyon. We continued driving through Arizona for the rest of the morning, stopping so that Mom could ingest more coffee and take some cat naps. I either slept or read most of the way there. I still wasn't ready to break the silence and talk about how everything was going to be so different.

I quickly grew bored of the scenery that never seemed to change. There were sand, and rocks, and various forms of scrubby vegetation that I'm sure were someone's delight to study, but I couldn't get excited about it. As soon as we hit the middle of New Mexico, the mountains disappeared. Everything was flat for as far as the eye could see, and trees were the only thing that made up the horizon. I felt very small and exposed.

We stopped in Dallas just as night was falling. Some music friends of my parent's were letting us sleep on their couch. I was exhausted, just barely managing to trip over the threshold and change before sleep claimed me. When I woke up it was sunny outside, and hot.

It took us the rest of the day to finish getting to Alabama. We arrived at the house to find the U-Haul truck with most of our stuff already sitting there. Mom pulled into the driveway and turned the car off. I got out to look at the house as she sat there fishing for her keys to the front door. The house was pretty big and impressive. There was a huge upstairs, with a bay window over the porch. Tall, willowy trees graced the front lawn outside. To complete this ridiculous picture, a white picket fence ran in front of the green lawn.

"Hope," my mom called. It was more or less the first time she had talked directly to me since we left. "Get your duffle, that's all we need right now. You can go pick a room and set up there." I opened up the back of the car and lugged out the faded blue floral duffle. I also grabbed my box, and headed into the house. Mom had left the door propped open, but, not knowing the neighborhood, I closed it. Better safe than sorry.

Heading up the narrow stairway proved easier said than done with my entire luggage in tow. My mother had insisted that we pack "tour style" meaning I already had my sleeping bag, air mattress and pump, and clothing for several days shoved into my duffle. This was helpful when you arrived at places late at night, so you only had to worry about one bag, but the one bag was pretty ridiculously heavy.

Finally I made it up the stairs, and wandered through the upstairs, looking into the rooms for one that I wanted. I found the room that had the big bay window over the porch, but that was the master suite, and would be for my parents. When both of them were finally together again. Moving on down the hall, I could already see the uses these rooms would serve; office, practice room, guest room. But where was my room?

At the end of the winding hallway, there was a room on the corner that felt like it was perched up in the willowy tree. I didn't see it from the front, but this room also had a bay window, though it was a smaller window seat version. I put my box down in the middle of the floor, and started to unpack my duffle.

Between all the camping and tours I've gone on, setting up camp is no big deal for me. I was sprawled out on my air mattress, mindlessly noodling on my practice pad, by the time my mom came in. It was fully dark outside now, and the way the light hit her made her look more tired than I had ever seen her before. She smiled at me laying there.

"Don't worry about getting up tomorrow. Recovery day," she said, rubbing her face. The dark rings under her eyes seemed to deepen. Remembering my promise to Dad, I got up and gave her a hug. She seemed surprised for a moment before hugging me back. Ouch. Maybe I should work on that. I'm all she has now.

"Night, Mom." It hit me for the first time that if I was this tired from just being a passenger, then she must feel like death warmed over. I couldn't have driven mostly across the country in two days like she did. She squeezed me one last time before leaving to set up her own little camp.

I had no idea what time it was when I actually woke up. My watch was not entirely reliable, since I didn't remember to change it during the time zone switches, nor was my body clock. If I was in California, it would have been between nine and ten in the morning. Jet lag was not fun.

Going downstairs, I saw the lower half of the house for the first time. It was very open and spacious, with a big kitchen. There were a pile of keys on the counter, along with a note.

_Hope- Keys to just about everything. Start bringing more stuff in if you want, but don't open the U-Haul just yet. There's food in the car._

_Love Mom_

Food. I was suddenly very hungry. I hadn't eaten a lot the past two days, because there seemed to be a tight knot where my stomach should have been. The first thing that hit me when I walked outside was how green everything was. The second thing that hit me was the humidity. Like a brick wall. I stood shading my eyes from the bright light for a moment, trying to let my body adjust to it.

My mom's little silver car stood exactly where we had left it last night. I unlocked the back and started looking through the assortment of paper bags for one that might contain food. I had just found some peanut granola bars when some kid rode by on his bike. He looked a little older than I was. Maybe either a junior or senior in high school. The fact that he was riding a bike was enough to spark my interest. People didn't usually ride bikes in California, unless they were either poor college kids or hard core athletes. This guy didn't look like either.

He stared at me as he drove past. He looked pretty unremarkable. Average build, average height, sandy brown hair-colored hair. I guess I may have looked a little conspicuous, sitting in the trunk of my mom's car in pajamas eating granola bars. But I didn't really care. He rode a little ways past me. Curiosity seemed to get the better of him, because he stopped and slowly came back towards me.

"Are you alright?" he asked. I laughed, both because of his outrageous southern accent and because he really had no business talking to me at all. He looked at me very strangely, and started to back up. Great. Good job, Hope, way to make a good first impression on the neighbors. Townsfolk. Whatever. I tried to just smile in a friendly way.

"I just moved here with my mom last night. We didn't want to drag food in when we got here, and I just woke up," I said raising my pajama-ed leg. "I had to come out to the car to get something to eat." He nodded, as if this wasn't one of the most ludicrous things he'd ever heard in his life. At least he was polite.

"Begging your pardon, but you don't sound like you're from around here. Where did you come from, if you don't mind my asking?" I looked closer at him. He did have nice eyes, even if everything else was unremarkable.

"We drove from California," I said. "I don't recommend it." At "California," his eyes widened.

"So you used to live on the beach? Did you hang out with movie stars?" My parents had both warned me of this. Apparently everyone outside the state of California thinks that it is one big beach that starts in San Francisco and ends in LA, or maybe San Diego if you're lucky. And, the best part is that it only takes forty-five minutes to get from one side to the other. I sighed.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I lived in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada's in northern California." He gave me a blank look. If this was how it was going to be, perhaps I should just whip out a map so that I could show people. California took a good four hours to drive across at its most narrow point. Back here, you could go through four states in four hours.

"Sure," he said. I tried not to roll my eyes. He hesitated a minute. "I'm James. James Hawthorne." I promise that I was good and did not snort.

"Hope," I said, sticking out my hand. "Hope Stephens." He did have nice hands. They were calloused…

"Well, I had better get back," he said, pulling his hand out of mine quickly. What the hell? Why was he blushing? "I guess I'll see you around."

"Sure," I smirked. He looked at me strangely again before getting back on his bike and riding off. I just shook my head. Inspecting the contents of the bags in the back of the car again, I chose the one that would most likely get eaten soon, slammed the back, and walked back into the house.

My mom was sitting at the enormous counter breakfast bar thing on some stacked boxes, since we didn't have any of our furniture unpacked yet. I noticed she did have the coffee maker nestled into a corner. She was nursing a cup the size of a pitcher while multitasking on her laptop. I saw a music writing program, email, and several word documents all open at once. Looking over her shoulder, I was relieved to see that she was not yet drinking her Blacker-Than-the-Pit-of-Doom coffee that normally allowed her to get approximately three hours of sleep from September to December.

"People are weird here," I said as I grabbed the other mug she had left out for me.

"I've been saying that for years, dear," she said, her eyes still glued on the computer screen. "You get used to them eventually, and band people are more or less the same across the country." I grimaced as I dug through my grocery bag for my tea, which I had found earlier. Caffeine does funky things to my system, and I have no desire to be helplessly addicted to it, like Mom is.

"The guy I just talked to didn't even seem to realize there was a Nor Cal."

"That's when you just agree with them and say that Brad Pitt and George Clooney were your neighbors and you went to barbeques with them," she said. There was a short pause as what I said actually registered. "What guy were you talking to?"

"Just this shmuck I met outside. He was riding his bike down the road while I was getting food out of the car. No big deal."

"Good."

"His name was James Hawthorne."

"They're all named James or Mark or Kyle or Jake or Ryan. Nothing new." And she was gone again. "Hey, listen to this chord sequence." She played something on the computer, and MIDI sound files screeched out. It sounded good. "Or do you think this would be better?" she quickly changed some notes, and played the track again. This time, even with the poor quality MIDI instruments, the sound was fuller, more dangerous, even breathtaking.

"Second one for sure," I said.

"I thought so," she said. "Hopefully eventually, these kids will be able to play this and make it sound good."

The reason we were moving wasn't so my mom could further herself. It was so she could save a program. My mom was a Mary Poppins of sorts. She stayed with a program until it was near perfect, financially stable, and she found a replacement. Then she moved on to the next school. Luckily, repairing a school like this took about 6 years, so it wasn't like we changed houses that much. She had stayed at Cedar Springs until my brother had graduated. Since I was only going to be a sophomore, it wasn't like I had any huge attachment to the place. Theoretically.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N- So there is probably a good fifty pages more of this story but I hardly think to upload here anymore. Thanks Quadplayer for your review. :)_

_Characters are mine. _

* * *

My freshman year of high school seemed to be nothing but a blur of memories at this point. I was going to miss the friends that I had made (by friends I mean my mom's band) and the good times we had spent together. Everything was going to be different now.

I was staring off into space as my mom shut down her laptop.

"Ready?" she asked.

"For?" I answered warily. She laughed. Her voice sounded slightly husky, like she hadn't laughed in a long time. A smile lit up her face, erasing years of her age.

"I don't know about you, but I enjoy having couches. And a kitchen table." She grabbed the keys off the counter and headed towards the front door. I groaned, following her. I could hardly stifle a laugh as we opened up the back of the U-haul. The contents looked more like the back room of a music store than someone's collection of furniture.

"Dibs on the set," I said. She laughed drily.

"Nice try," she replied. Since it was the first thing that we could both grab, however, we lugged the black canvas cases out of the back of the trailer.

"Let's just move it inside for right now. We can figure out where it will live later." I knew it would probably end up down in the living room, with the piano, once we dug that out too. Any wind instruments would go in the spare room upstairs, along with the electric keyboard. Hauling various parts of the drum set inside made me feel better. It was like this house would actually be ours once we put our instruments inside it. It was like were putting our lives inside it.

By about noon (according to Mom's watch, which may or may not have been correct), we got most of the U-haul emptied. My room had an old beat-up futon; there was indeed a kitchen table, and a refrigerator in the kitchen. My mom would have to wait until we bought a mattress for her bed, which just lay propped up against the wall in her room. She would probably use the couch downstairs until then. I had never realized what all went into a home to make it livable. My mom was exhausted, and went to go take a nap after we closed the trailer back up.

I walked into my still mostly-empty room, and sighed. I could probably fall asleep again too, but that wouldn't be smart. I wasn't the one who was going not sleep for the next four months. I got on my computer for a while, answering emails, talking online with people from back in California. I desperately looked for any news on my favorite groups as they plunged into the summer season. I lurked around, hungry for feeds, on the various forum sites. Finally, admitting defeat that there were no more leads or distractions to be bought from the internet; I turned to my empty cell of a room.

The box I had stubbornly grabbed with my duffel last night still lay next to my air mattress, which I hadn't bothered to put away yet. I wandered over to it and pulled out the first object floating on top. Turning it over in my hands, I smiled. It was a black drum head with silver permanent marker written on it. It was remarkable only in that it was from a group that had won outright only once, the summer before my mother marched. She had given it to me, acknowledging our singular love for that group. I stuck it on the wall in a place of honor directly above my futon.

In the corner next to the bay window seat, I stuck up various drum related posters. Rudiments, groove combinations, you know, the stuff a girl can't live without. I pulled out more stuff; group pictures that had been either my mom's, my dad's or both. I found the double pictured frame that contained two pictures of people in dark green and grey uniforms. One was a standard pose with instruments held at attention and straight faces. The other was one of the legendary "Crazy Band Pictures". I smiled a little at them, before sticking them on the wall next to my drum head.

The rest of my box contained some binders full of music and about a dozen books. I would need to let my mom know that I needed a bookshelf, ASAP. Looking around my still very bare little room, I thought a desk might do well too. Finally, exhaustion overcame me, and I grabbed a blanket out of my duffel. I'm pretty sure I only lay curled up on my futon for five minutes before I fell asleep again.

The next few weeks passed by in this manner. Putting the house together, learning our way around the neighborhood. In a removed kind of way, I felt like we were settling into our new lifestyle. I saw some kids riding bikes through the window a few times. None of them ever stopped again, not even when I was just outside in the yard, or walking down the street. I never saw James Hawthorne among them, though. The most interaction I saw from any other locals was being honked at if I decided to walk on the sidewalks. Flattery never ceases.

I heard from Matt a few times, in late night text messages. Everydays were wearing on him pretty hard, I guess. They were still busy moving around different parts of California, camping out at schools for a week at a time before moving on to the next school. He was one of the youngish ones there, having just turned 18 after Memorial camp. No matter how much he thought he knew from our parents, his first time rehearsing with a world class corps for almost 12 hours a day (eight to noon, one to five, then six to ten, or some nights eleven) was pretty rough. I missed him.

After two weeks, my mom finally got her keys in for her new band room. It was about a fifteen minute drive to the high school, winding through quiet neighborhoods. She headed directly for the music room. I decided to stay outside and look around the school site. There didn't seem to be anyone around on campus that I saw. Perhaps some janitors were lurking in the back of the school, but I didn't see any sign of anyone else. The school was on a hill, I was surprised to see. A road seemed to be running through it, and I had no idea why someone thought that was a good idea.

There was a lovely stadium nestled into the hillside, with a picturesque track and field at the bottom. I couldn't wait to march on it. I walked down to the bottom of the hill to see if I could see what the field felt like to march on, but the chain link fence was padlocked shut. In mild disappointment, I kicked the fence, listening to the rattles echoing as I turned around.

Trekking back up the hill, I found the band room by the loud thumping of music and collisions happening inside. I poked my head in, to find my mom hucking various cardboard boxes into a heap in the center while blasting music. She looked positively giddy. I could only imagine. I didn't really understand the whole "dig a school out of the hole it was in and start from scratch" thing. If I was in charge of an award winning program, I would want to keep my award winning program. Not having much to do, I started poking around the room.

There were a couple side rooms shooting off the main space. I found one that had a mess of papers in it, so I could only assume it was the music library. I chose to avoid my mother and her debris flinging rampage, but still managed to see some sleeves through the door to her little room. _Unis_. These band uniforms were also green, like they had been back in California, but had black and gold on them instead of grey and silver. It was too soon, and I didn't want to look at them closer.

I wrinkled my nose as I crossed the room to the safety of the other side rooms. The first one I opened was cracked, with the lights already on. I pushed the door open to see stacks of cases in awkward cage-like lockers. There were horns shoved into one, and the long hulking trombone cases spilled out of another. Trumpets were stacked carelessly in a way that would make Matt cry. Mom would probably cry too, if she had that luxury.

I backed out of the horn room and closed the door. Not what I wanted. _Third time's a charm,_ I thought hopefully at the next room. The door didn't open easily. I had to jiggle and yank the handle before I heard the mechanism inside click and turn. Oddly enough, this gave me hope that what I sought lay inside. There was a considerable state of disarray in this room, but it was different than the other messy side rooms. This felt purposeful. Shelves lined both sides too make a narrow hallway of a room. Looming cases that I hoped were full seemed to be carefully stacked in order on the shelves.

I pulled out a square-ish box and unbuckled the lid. A marching snare drum lay inside, along with a stick bag and some crumpled remnants of music. I tapped on the drum with my finger, frowning as the sound of an old head that has been tightened too much thudded dully. I grabbed the pair of sticks in the case to check out later.

Moving further in, I saw a large bulky object that was haphazardly covered by a sheet. I flung the sheet aside to reveal an ancient looking drum set. I maneuvered myself behind it to sit down on the creaking seat. It felt so good to just sit there on the throne behind some drums. Even if they were crappy drums that hadn't had new heads put on in eighty million years. I winced as the sticks bounced off the drums. The heads were not only old, but not tuned at all. I know Mom could hear me in the other room, but for some reason she let me just mess around until I was in a better mood. I smiled. I was still a drummer. Now all I needed was a band.

A few days later and half a country away, Every-days were ending for my brother and my dad. Their real show was this coming weekend. They had had their "Friends and Family" preview showing the weekend before, while I was exploring the Drum Cave, as Mom and I had taken to calling it. Matt had texted me after, saying only that he was exhausted physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. That kind of scared me. My brother was as strong as my mom in my eyes. He never backed down from a challenge, never gave up on anything. If he was admitting to being beat, their boot camp must be crazy…

Mom and I had decided that we would watch the show streaming online. That way, at least we could pretend that we were still connected as a family. I knew that if I was taking it this hard, life was sucking some major balls for Mom right now. She wasn't going to be there to see her son's first performance in a World Class Corps, and it was killing her. The night of the show, we huddled around her laptop screen, since it was bigger than mine. There was an ok lineup of World Class corps there; all four from California, one from Arizona, and another from Colorado.

We were up far later than normal, due to the two hour time difference. We watched the first three corps perform under the setting sun. They were pretty good. Better than any high school marching band I've ever seen or been in. There were plenty of things still to fix, lots of dirt both musically and visually, but overall, it looked pretty good. We were halfway through the fourth performance when the storm broke.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/n- Whoo! Break through! I finally got a hard part in the middle written, and the rest of the little bits just kind of fell into place. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own DCI, or the alluded to corps. I do own all characters. And the crazy things they do. ;)_

* * *

It had been muggy and heavy all day, but I had thought nothing of it, since it was muggy in this swamp every day. As my mom and I sat straining to see everything on her computer, all the normal night noises stopped outside. Birds and crickets that had been so loud through the window screen were silenced like a radio being shut off. I turned away from the screen towards the window.

"Do you hear that?" I asked. Mom wasn't really paying attention. She was still trying to concentrate on the tiny figures moving across a virtual football field.

"What?" she asked. Her eyes were still glued to the screen. The sound was getting louder, like whatever it was, was moving very fast. As it got louder, it grew from a dull white noise into a loud pattering sound. In moments it sounded like there were bullets being dropped on top of our house. My mother finally jumped as thunder split through the air over our heads. I raced to the window and turned on a light outside to see gigantic pieces of hail falling from the sky. It was bouncing everywhere, shredding the leaves on our willows and covering up the front yard. I stood staring at the hail for a few seconds before everything around me went dark. The lights, my mother's computer, and the hum of the dishwasher were all cut off. The silence was filled with the sound of rain and hail.

My mother tried wistfully to turn the computer back on; we hadn't gotten to see Matt's performance yet. It would be on right now. There was no hail in sunny California. The night there would be warm and soft, with a hint of breeze. Her computer remained as dead as the rest of the house. I heard her take a deep breath in the dark.

She moved toward the counter and produced some matches out of a drawer. A tiny flame illuminated her face, casting deep shadows around her eyes as she lit a decorative candle on the counter.

"So much for that, I guess," she said. The pain and disappointment in her voice was almost as sharp as the hail pounding outside. "I'm going to bed." I nodded in the dark and followed her wavery sphere of light up the stairway. She murmured goodnight to me as we passed my room. It had stopped hailing, and the rain had slowed down by the time I scooted under the covers of my futon. I was drifting off to sleep when I heard a soft sobbing coming from my mother's room. My heart clenched inside me. I hugged my pillow close to my body and fervently asked whoever was listening why it was suddenly so hard for us to even pretend to be a family.

The rest of June passed slowly, and oozed into July. I had no idea what these people did for the Fourth here, and really didn't care. I couldn't wait for the month to end. The end of July brought drum corps pouring down through the South, fresh from the big Regional competition in San Antonio.

I'm pretty sure Mom normally would have been irritated by my dancing around the week before the show in Alabama. I wasn't really worth a lot. She wasn't worth anything. I would come home from running or out of a practice room if we were at school, to see her staring out into space over the horizon, or blanking out at her computer screen. A little smile would play over her lips, and sometimes she would hum to herself. This was not unusual in of itself, but the fact that it had nothing to do with any music she was writing or planning for her new band was unheard of. It was a strange, lilting melody that didn't sound quite complete.

We woke up the day of the show ridiculously early. Normally I would have protested waking up before ten in the morning. Normally I didn't go over two months without seeing my father. Matt had been away on tour for the feeder corps before, but I still missed him too. I wanted so much to be together again.

Gadsden was about an hour and a half away from where we lived. We wound our way through the leafy green foothills that seemed to constitute the state of Alabama. There wasn't any traffic. I watched the hills roll by with my forehead pressed up against the window, and I realized this was the first time we had really gone anywhere since we got to Alabama.

It was silent in the car. I think my mom was so focused on getting to the show site that she didn't notice what went on around her. Usually neither of us could drive for more than ten minutes without listening to something, and my acting job was to DJ the music. But I couldn't figure out any music that was appropriate for this current situation.

The closer we got, the tenser my mom became. Part of it, I understood, because I was feeling it too; the dizzying combination of anxiety and restlessness was enough to put anyone on edge. The manic glint in her eyes though, I couldn't explain. I had only seen it once before, when I was very little and she was still working with her own corps over the summer. It kind of scared me.

We got to the performance site early, as usual. Most of the corps hadn't even gotten there yet. We had no trouble finding a parking spot relatively close to the stadium entrance. I felt the humidity slam into me the moment I opened the car door. It was

From the parking lot where I sat in the trunk, I could see buses rolling into the various lots, accompanied by their fleet of trucks and trailers. At the sight of kids who were only a little older than me filing neatly out to go warm up, something in me snapped. I had never before thought about what it really meant to be part of a group like this. It was always something I took for granted that we just did every summer, like some people swim in pools or go to the beach. We lived drum corps. A fiery intensity trapped itself in my chest, and as I looked at Mom, I saw something of what I felt echoed in her face. Perhaps we were more alike than I thought.

They were the last ones to play that evening. Mom and I kept craning our heads to the corps' entrance, willing them to come onto the field. The rest of the groups were all very good. We had seen some of them before, when we streamed the first show of the season. But that was over a month ago, and all I had had was contraband clips on the internet and the perky little videos that DCI granted you access to. No real show substance. They had all gotten better. And of course, the only real way to watch drum corps was out in an open stadium on a warm night in July.

We suffered through intermission, and I'm sorry to say I couldn't focus on the next two groups that were before ours. So much for being a disciplined musician. Finally, as the penultimate corps left the field, I saw the tell-tale white plumes in the darkness of the tunnel. I could feel my heart rate speed up as they emerged from the gloom, their drum major out in front clapping beats.

"On the field, presenting their program, 'Parting's Sweetest Gift…" I didn't hear anymore after that. I was too busy trying to yell louder than Mom. Luckily, there were enough fans who were also yelling their heads off that we weren't conspicuous. As I stood screaming my head off, I thought about the name of their show. Interesting how karma comes up in the oddest places…

The audience quieted down as the opening chords crept like honeyed rivulets into the audience's ears and hearts. I swear, I had never heard anything so beautiful in my life. The music swelled into the first big impact point, and as it broke away into a drum feature, I saw a tear coursing down my mother's cheek out of the corner of my eye. The performers caught me again in their swirling melodies and dizzying drill, momentarily driving anything else out of my head. I heard snippets of music I thought I recognized, but it was all so blended together it was hardly there at all before another section would come from underneath with another line that made my heart want to break.

There was no distinguishable ballad, but everyone knew when the finale was. The horn line dissolved from the flowy shapes it had been making into concentrated lines of a halftime push. I was pretty sure the only reason they halted instead of continuing that deliberate, powerful march straight into the stands was they ran into the pit.

At such a close range, the sound coming from those shiny silver bells was beyond description. Inside it was such an array of emotions and states that it was impossible to not feel anything, yet I had only the slightest glimpse of what it truly was. It was like flying, effortlessly skimming over clear water for the sheer joy and exhilaration. It was like dancing, singing, shouting. It was like drowning. Drowning in the most beautiful golden light that had been transmuted into sound. My heart was singing and weeping at the same time, trying to grasp onto that moment. I wanted to be submerged in that glorious light that was sound and pain that was not pain forever.

The show came to an end, breaking me from my trance. I couldn't bring myself to scream with the rest of the audience, but sat there staring at the backs of the marchers as they retreated off the field. We exited the stadium, not really caring about awards. I saw them, coated in their proud uniforms, snaking their way through the parking lot in a single file line back to their buses. We followed them to the buses, where I saw a familiar skinny form in the midst of the horn line, grouped around someone who was probably important. Mom caught hold of my shoulder as I was about to run over and tackle my older brother.

"Hold on," she said. "They're still in full uniform, as a corps. You can't talk to them until they are dismissed." I reluctantly let her pull me back, but strained to listen to what the guy in the middle of the huddle was telling them.

"That was great guys, but we're still going to have to work on performance. Every one of you is going to get closer and closer to having the perfect run. We just need more of you to get there sooner. And that will happen in rehearsal. Your best show of the season is going to take place in a cornfield somewhere in Iowa. You can only perform just under the level of your best practice. Good job tonight." I stood there, soaking up the words the tall man in the middle had said. I was thinking about how you could have the best show in the middle of a cornfield when the masses broke off into sections. I saw my brother listening to a short form intently.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/n- Spring break = much more updatings. :) I hope there is still anyone who reads these things. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own DCI, the alluded to corps. I do own characters, their thoughts, and any parts that may resemble real events were probably used on purpose. They're mine too. :)_

* * *

The huddled groups of sections finally disbursed from their meetings. We waited between the buses and the truck as mass chaos broke out. The members were rushing everywhere, trying to put instruments away, stripping where ever they could out of the sweat-drenched uniforms.

"Lynn!" I heard my mom's name called out and whipped around. Standing there with an Aussie in one hand and some part of a uniform in the other stood my father. I could barely believe it was him before my mother rushed over to him. Stopping just short, she nodded at the articles in his hands.

"Are you going to find some where to put those?" she asked almost a little too patiently. He looked around at the scurrying kids for about a second, trying to find someone to take them. He grinned, closing the distance between them.

"Screw it," he said, and threw his arms around her. The fact that my parents were all but making out in the parking lot between the buses finally caught the kids' attention. Catcalls were heard from inside the buses. My mother's head surfaced long enough to tell them off.

"Phil, Andy, I know for a fact that your uniforms are not back on the truck! You better get them there."

I was so absorbed in watching my parents, I paid no attention when someone walked up behind me and stopped.

"Hi-ya, Sis." That was all it took to turn around and tackle my brother. After he twirled me around a few times, I peered up into his face. He was ridiculously tan. His normally sandy hair had been bleached out to nearly the color of Mom's, a light gold. He had also buzzed it all off, so that only a light fuzz remained. He looked like a very buff walking skeleton. He was still suited up, probably to show me and my mother. The silver trumpet he still grasped gleamed in the dim light of the parking lot. His spotless white gloves carried his Aussie in the other hand. He hardly looked like my brother anymore.

"Dude, who's that making out with Tom?" Another tan sweaty boy came up to stand next to Matt. This one had changed out of uniform, however. He was dressed only dark green gym shorts and a jacket that had "Phil, Euphonium," emblazoned on one side. Various patches were scattered across the sleeves and back.

"That would be my mother, you jerk," Matt said, giving him a good-natured push. "Lay off."

"Just kidding," said Phil, surrendering. Then he saw me. "And who is this, your girl friend?" I blushed furiously. Matt just rolled his eyes.

"And this would be my sister." Phil made a big show of pretending to bow to me.

"So you are Matt's infamous sister," he said, looking me up and down. "He was right, you're hot." If anything, this made me blush harder. Matt was gazing over at our parents, not paying any attention to his friend's attempts to hook up with his sister. "Is she available?" Phil asked Matt, poking him in the side. That got his attention.

"No!" he exclaimed. He looked at me, considering. "Unless you're interested?" I shook my head vigorously, sending my hair flying around my head. Luckily, my parents saved me from any other uncomfortable conversations with Phil. They had finally made their way over to where we were standing. My dad still had his arm around Mom, like he was never letting her out of his sight again. He let her go only to engulf me in one of his best bear hugs. He too, was tan and thinner, though not so sweaty as the marchers.

"Hello, rainbow-bug," he whispered in my ear. "Have you missed me?" The lump in my throat came back immediately. I couldn't really answer, but just buried my head into his neck. It had been almost two months since I had last seen him, and it hit me how much I missed him now that he was here in front of me again. When I finally broke away from him, I caught him wiping the corners of his eyes. I looked for Mom, slightly alarmed, only to see her talking with Matt. She looked like she wanted to cry too, she was so happy and proud of him. Phil was still standing with us, not quite getting what the big deal was. My mother, however, had no use for people who were just standing there.

"Phil, since you don't appear to be doing anything, you can take a picture for us," she said, whipping a camera out of nowhere.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Tom," he said.

We all got close enough to fit into the camera's viewer, and Phil snapped the shot. We all stood blinking for a moment, before Mom gave Matt a gentle push.

"You'll want to get out of that uniform and eat," she said, smiling. "We'll still be here." Matt nodded and went off with Phil in the direction of food and bus. Dad was looking at her, confused.

"We need to get going," he said. "They only have another half an hour of Snack before we roll out." He trailed off, looking slightly confused. That made two of us. I had no idea what was going on, but Mom had a very evil looking glint in her eye.

"You guys are going back to the same gym, yeah?" she asked with a grin. Dad shrugged.

"Yeah, they have a rehearsal and laundry day tomorrow. Same school until we leave for Tennessee." He looked at my mom's face.

"What could you possibly be thinking?" he said with mock curiosity, drawing her back to him. "That look always scares me."

"I think," She said, "that Hope and I are going to have to spend a night on Tour."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/n- This is probably one of my favorite scenes so far. :)_

* * *

My dad raised an eyebrow at my mother's words.

"I've put more than enough time into this organization that they can extend their hospitality for a night." She gently tugged the collar of his polo. "We won't see each other again until Christmas…" My dad rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. He just pulled her closer into another hug. It wrenched my heart to know that in a few short hours, they would be parted again. Finally, I heard him speak again.

"Alright… you can just follow the buses back to the housing site, and we'll figure out the rest when we get there." Dad looked at his watch. "We leave in about fifteen minutes anyway. And you'll probably be dragged into helping with the cook truck for meals. It's going to be a long, long rehearsal day." She smiled, and stood up on her toes to kiss him again. I looked away in time to see Matt and Phil walking back towards us, both with a sandwich in each hand. Phil cleared his throat to get my parents' attention.

"Tom, we wanted to know when we were leaving," Phil said around an enormous bite of peanut butter and jelly. My mother shot him a death glare from my father's arms. Dad just sighed.

"Soon," he said. Phil shrugged and turned back to Matt and me. "Let's go sit on the curb," he suggested. The three of us walked over to the bus and sat down on the sidewalk. Matt smiled at me.

"So how's Alabama treating you?" he asked. I grimaced, and he laughed.

"That bad, huh? Do you know anyone yet?"

"No, not really," I said, trying not to feel sorry for myself. "The only person I have met is a very strange boy the first day here. I was sitting in the back of the car in pajamas eating a granola bar, and he went by on his bike. He saw me and stopped." Matt and Phil started to laugh.

"Shut up," I said. "There wasn't any food in the house, and Mom was still asleep. Anyway, he was kind of weird. He blushed after shaking my hand." Phil snorted.

"I know why," he said.

"Why?" I asked. Matt shoved his friend as he started laughing again.

"Don't pay any attention to him; he's just being a jerk." I rolled my eyes. My brother had the strangest friends.

"Don't worry, Sis," Matt said. "I'm sure you are going find plenty of cool people at school. Just make sure and practice before band camp. I want to hear all about how you came in and kicked some ass and made center snare." I sighed.

"I wish," I said, "I just want to march again. I miss it. That's the only reason why I want school to start." I saw Mom and Dad come walking around the bus.

"You should have been on the bus three minutes ago," Dad said to the two boys. They shot up as if they had been burned, and ran around to the entrance of the bus.

"Talk to you later, Hope!" Matt called over his shoulder. Dad shook his head. Mom took his hand.

"See you in a bit," she said, smiling. He nodded and gave her a peck on the cheek before going around to one of the other buses. "Time to hit the road," Mom said to me. She looked way too excited about it.

We followed the caravan of buses and trucks back to high school and got there the same time they did. As all the members got off of the buses, I walked with my mom to the gym. It looked just like I thought it might; it was covered in air mattresses and luggage with horns and rifles scattered all over. There was a space down the middle presumably separating the boys from the girls. My mom left with the crowd, apparently knowing where she was going. I stood unnoticed in the middle of the hustle.

I saw my mother greeting a bunch of the staff in the far corner of the gym and my brother was in yet another section meeting, this time with what seemed to be an instructor in the middle of the group. I felt kind of awkward. I didn't really know anyone else, though apparently some of these people knew of me. Some of the members smiled at me as they rushed past with suitcases and duffle bags. Most of them just ignored me. I was only a body standing between them and another ten minutes of sleep. I was just trying to work up the nerve to walk over to the staff group when someone walked up behind me. I turned around to see Phil. He had an open can of Pringles in his hands and a smile on his face.

"How did you end up here?" he asked. I shrugged.

"My mom decided that we were going to hang out with you guys tonight, I guess," I said.

"That's cool," he said. "I know the staff bugs Tom on a daily basis about when his wife was coming back. She's missed a lot, apparently." He looked over at the group of staff members who were still animatedly chatting with my parents. "I wouldn't know though, she taught before my time here."

"Yeah, she hasn't spent a summer with the corps since I was eight or so," I said, remembering vaguely being told to stay out of the way and help in the cook truck.

"So where are you staying?" Phil asked, offering me the can of Pringles. I took one, considering.

"I have no idea. Wherever I get told to sleep," I said.

"Well, then I'm telling you you're going to sleep here with us," Phil said, grinning. I rolled my eyes.

"I meant wherever my parents or the other staff tell me to sleep," I said, trying to be nonchalant about it.

"Good luck with that," he said, pointing. "They've already left." I whipped around to see that the group of staff had in fact disappeared.

"No worries," Phil said. "We'll set you up over with me and your brother and Ali." He turned and started walking toward a corner of the gym. I hesitated for a moment before trotting to catch up with him. He was the only person I knew at the moment, besides my brother, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be fed to the wolves quite yet. Though, if he made any more remarks like he had in the parking lot, I would take my chances with the wolves.

We made our way through the maze of duffle bags and air mattresses to one covered in a blanket that I recognized as my brothers, and another that I guessed was Phil's. A little way off, there was one that I guessed was Ali's, whoever that was. I noticed that unlike my brother and Ali, Phil had a large double air mattress.  
"Did you bring anything to sleep on?" Phil asked. I shook my head and shrugged. As far as plans went, this was not one of my mother's most carefully thought-out schemes. I had nothing other than what I was wearing.

"I'll lend you a blanket," he said. I started to protest, but he cut me off. "I sleep very warm. I'll be fine." By this point, my brother had finished with his meeting, and was leading a very pretty girl by the hand in our direction. I was shocked. He hadn't mentioned anything about a girl.

"Hey guys," Matt said, coming up to us. "This is Ali," he said to me. I thought I caught the beginnings of a blush spread across his face, but he was too tanned to tell. Ali smiled at me.

"Matt's told me all about you," she said. "I'm glad to finally get to meet you." Our introductions were cut short by a girl yelling "Lights Out!" from the middle of the gym. Matt and Phil rolled their eyes, while Ali just sighed.

"Come on," Matt said. "We had better get to bed, or else heads will roll."

We all said a somewhat distracted goodnight. I lay on the hard gym floor, freezing and uncomfortable. I tried not to toss and turn as I listened to the sounds of exhausted people falling asleep around me. I couldn't get warm and soon started shivering. Above my head, the gigantic gym air conditioner roared to life, sending an icy blast of air over my head.

"Hope?" a voice whispered in the darkness. For a moment, I thought it might be my brother, but then I realized it was coming from the bed across from mine. "Are you ok?" My teeth were chattering, even though I had the blanket drawn around me as tight as I could. I tried to keep silent, but a small moan escaped. I heard a slight rustle, and then out of the darkness Phil appeared at my side.

"Are you ok?" he whispered again. I sighed and sat up. My teeth were still chattering as I shook my head. "Do you want to come over and sleep on my bed?" he offered. "I have plenty of room." Under normal circumstances, I would have flung an icy remark in the face of someone who suggested that. But I was tired and cold, and not used to sleeping on a gym floor. My desire for comfort won the brief scuffle that my morals tried to put up. I nodded, and he took my blanket-covered hands and led me over to his air mattress.

We both lay down on it, and I sighed in relief. It was so much more comfortable than the floor. He chuckled quietly in the darkness.

"I'm sorry I only have one pillow," he said. "But you are welcome to use me instead." I froze in my still-shivering state, not sure what to do. He reached over to touch my hand again, but this time his hands brushed my bare skin.

"You're freezing." My teeth continued to chatter. "Come here," he said, wrapping his arms around me. I lay there stiff in his arms for a few seconds before giving in and snuggling closer to him. He was very warm. With one arm he twitched the blanket so that it was covering both of us before encircling me with it again. His arm felt like a rock of solid muscle; I guess the effect of holding up a large horn for long periods in a day. I kind of liked it; it made me feel safe.

"Thank you," I murmured. He kissed the top of my forehead.

"You're very welcome," he whispered. I looked up at him. I knew he was staring at me in the darkness. His head bent down again, but this time his lips found mine. All of the feelings of discomfort and worry inside me melted. I smiled as his arms tightened around me. I was willing to bet this was not how most girls got their first kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/n- Seems appropriate to have this posted in the middle of winter, dreaming of high summer. :)_

* * *

I woke up the next morning alone on Phil's air mattress. The gym was still dark, and my eyes took a minute to peer through the gloom. I looked over and saw that Matt's bed was empty too.

I sat up just as the girl who had yelled for lights out last night walked into the gym. I could only see her silhouette against the light of the door for a split second before she flipped the light switches on. I lay back down on Phil's mattress, trying not be noticed. I'm sure a girl on the boy's side, especially a girl who most people didn't even recognize, would not be welcomed. The girl who turned the lights on called out over the groaning forms that were being relentlessly pulled back into consciousness.

"Good morning. It is seven o'clock. Breakfast is by the truck. You have one hour to eat and be on the rehearsal field. The field is still out in BFN, so make sure you leave early."

I used the confusion that followed the girl's announcement to get back on the girl's side of the gym, where Ali was sitting up on her bed, stretching. I don't know how the rest of the corps was feeling, but I definitely did not get enough sleep. She smiled when she saw me.

"I hope you didn't keep Phil up all night," she said. "He'll be grumpy all through rehearsal today." I shook my head.

"He was the one keeping me up," I said. Ali laughed. She had a very pretty laugh, and it was easy to smile back at her. "Where did they go, anyway?"

"The boys had to go make sure the field was still lined for practice today. They're probably eating right now." She looked around at the gym that was mostly empty. "We should go too." I followed her across the floor through No Man's Land and out the doors. The sun was already up and hot. I held my hand up to shield my eyes, waiting for them to adjust.

In the few seconds I stood there, Ali disappeared and rematerialized in the huge line that was forming. I saw Matt and Phil, along with some other guys already sitting on the curb next to the truck. They were already only in green gym shorts, shoving entire pancakes down their faces as fast as they could. I didn't know if I wanted to go sit with them. Were you supposed to talk to some one you just shared an air mattress with? What if he regretted his decision? I was saved from having to find out the answer to any of these awkward questions when my dad came around the truck. He too was shirtless, but smiling as he saw me and came over.

"Did you sleep ok?" he asked. I rolled my eyes.

"No thanks to you or Mom," I said, watching the boys eat their cereal with plastic forks. Phil looked over and caught my eye. He smiled and blew a kiss at me, making me blush. My dad followed my stare to glare at Matt and his friend. This only made the group of them start to laugh. One boy almost pushed Phil over, and Matt pretended to throw a sausage patty at him. Dad just shook his head.

"Looks like the euph line will be doing pushups today," he said. The boys just waved at him and laughed harder.

"It's your fault," I retorted. "You and Mom left me all alone in a gym full of crazy people, and he was the only one I knew at the time." He just shook his head again and started to walk back to the truck, grumbling to himself. I heard "tell your mother" and smiled. There was nothing he could tell Mom without being a hypocrite, so I followed him to the truck. The mob of hungry teenagers had thinned enough that I could see my mother's face through the crowd. She was refilling a giant plastic tub of cereal. I cut around the front of the line to stand behind the tables with the other women who were serving breakfast. Mom saw me and grinned. She walked over with the half full bag of cereal in her hand.

"So I heard you had quite the night last night," she said, smirking.

"Ha, ha," I grumbled. I had thought news spread through high school like a wildfire; it was nothing compared to this. She just laughed though and handed me a bowl.

"We're out of spoons at the moment, so find a fork," she told me. There were very few kids in line now, and most of them were done eating. I saw yet more tall and skinny boys emptying the trash bags, hauling them off to a dumpster somewhere. I was guessing they were drummers, due to the peculiar tan on their six-packed stomachs. People were coming back out of the gym with hats and backpacks on, water jugs in hand. Some of them had horns, while others carried long bags with flags and sabers hanging out the ends. I watched them walk off down the road behind a cluster of trees and disappear from view.

"There are still some pancakes and sausage pucks left," my mother told me. Dad reappeared with a cereal bowl in his hand as I was helping myself to some of the lukewarm pancakes in a tin tray. I didn't think I could stomach the "sausage pucks" this early in the morning. He looked at his watch.

"It's seven forty-five," he said warningly to the members who were still eating on the ground. They nodded and inhaled the rest of the food that had been on their plates before running back into the gym. They burst out seconds later, sprinting for the rehearsal field, wherever it was. Dad watched them go, chasing the last of his cereal around the bowl with a fork.

"Are you going to stay here with your mom?" he asked me. My mother came up next to me and answered without consulting me.

"I think she'll stay here with me for a while, cleaning up and getting ready for lunch. You guys only have a couple three hour blocks, right?" she asked. My dad nodded, looking at the whiteboard that was propped against the truck with the day's schedule scrawled across it. "Then we'll go watch the final run through, and leave when you guys do." I grimaced at being told what to do, but my parents didn't seem to notice. My dad stooped down to peck my forehead before simultaneously kissed my mom while throwing his cereal bowl away.

"You guys are amazing. See you later." He picked up a backpack from the curb and trotted down in the direction the members had taken a few minutes before. I watched him disappear around the bend, wishing I could go with him. I found myself wondering what the corps was doing as I sat on the asphalt in the shade of the cook truck. The group of cook moms was taking a brief rest, sitting in camp chairs grouped in a circle in the shade. Phil's face floated through my mind as I wrestled with a particularly rubbery piece of pancake. I was contemplating the likelihood of being able to sneak off to watch him when the women apparently finished their coffee break.

A sturdy lady with dark hair got off her camp chair and stretched, which was the signal for the others to also rise. Within seconds, it seemed, the long table in front of me was cleared. I stood there, feeling like I was in the way. Someone noticed I wasn't doing anything, and handed me a large container like my mom had had earlier. I had no idea what to do with it, other than fill it from the tubs that the corps had eaten out of. I put the full container back in a side cabinet of the truck. Seeing my chance, I tried to make a break for it. One of the cook staff noticed as I sidled down the other side of the truck and called me over to help her. I sighed and turned back towards the work that I had been volunteered to do.

Somehow, I ended up being dragged back into the cook truck. I was handed a sponge by one of the many bustling women and positioned next to a sink I probably could have bathed in. For eating so much food, there were surprisingly few dishes to wash. I finished drying everything, handing it off to yet someone else who knew where it all went. A large grin split my face. I was free! I got through the door and turned down the stairs when I ran into my mother who had a box full of tortillas in her arms.

"Lunch time is going to be soon. You want to chop stuff up?" she asked. I knew it wasn't really a question. By the time I finished chopping, mixing, and washing again, the corps was trooping back up the hill to eat again. I tried to look for Matt or Phil, but I couldn't see them in the first wave of sweaty members. The first bowls of food disappeared, and I was sent running for refills. I didn't get a chance to look for them again before they refilled their water jugs to head back to the field for their final block before they left.

"Hello, beautiful," Phil winked at me as he leaned over his jug. The water gushed out of the hose, sending a light mist back out of the opening. He seemed to be in the opportune position to have the spray cover his body. "I'll see you after we've cleaned up." He straightened, tightening the lid to the bucket.

"I wish I could be out there too," I said, staring in the direction of the retreating members.

"Not right now you don't," he said. "Everyone's pretty edgy, and the heat isn't helping." I didn't notice the heat or the humidity anymore. I guess I got used to it without knowing. I shrugged. "You're seeing a glimpse of what corps is really about," he continued. "Everyone always thinks we just appear out of buses in uniform, and then go to the next show. They don't realize the time we spend out in the sun and the heat, killing ourselves to be here." He grinned down at me. "Ah well," he said, picking up his silver horn. "Sometimes I get lucky and there are cute girls that just appear out of nowhere. See you in three hours." He turned and left down the hill. I watched the sheen of sweat reflect back off of his muscled back, smiling to myself.

* * *

_A/n- Good luck to everyone with camps coming up. :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/n- I love having winter break to work on things. Happy winter solstice. _

* * *

I wasn't able to gloat to myself for very long. My mother found me and pulled me back into the cook trailer to wash more kitchen stuff. It was long, dreary work. I know the cook staff tried to make it more fun for me because they kept the radio on loudly. They also kept trying to make conversation with me; they all acted like they had known me for years. I wondered if they thought that I would ever want to be out on the rehearsal field as a member, not just hanging out as one of the techs' daughter. I tried not to let the soapy water slosh too violently in the big sink and answered them when they asked me questions. After a while, however, an afternoon lull descended over the cook truck, no doubt set off by the thick, hot air that settled down over everything. I concentrated on my dishes. Soap. Scour. Rinse. Repeat. I got into a rhythm of washing pots and zoned out.

I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and started.

"Hey," my mom said. She looked almost as startled as I felt. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just a little hot." Mom looked almost sheepish.

"I didn't mean for you to be stuck in here for so long. We've been working for a long time." She went to the walk-in refrigerator and pulled a water bottle out. "This will probably help a little."

"Thanks." The cold water was like delicious heaven as it slid down my throat. I felt better almost instantly.

"Umm," she said. "Do you want to go watch them do their final run-through?" she asked. "It's getting to be about the end of their block." I nodded. She turned around and headed out of the narrow trailer.

We walked in silence down the long dirt road, and back up the hill towards the field the corps was using to practice. We were still pretty far off when we heard the echoing cracks of the drum line. The sound was followed by a yell from a loudspeaker. We couldn't tell what was being said, but kept heading in the general direction of the noise. By the time we got to the field, the corps members were huddled on the fifty yardline.

"Did we miss it?" Mom asked one of the other volunteers. The other lady shook her head no.

"They are just getting a talking-to today," she said. "They'll start in a few minutes." The volunteer mom was partially right. As we stood watching from the side line, the members dispersed from their knot on the fifty. One of the staff yelled something. The members took off sprinting around the football field as if they had been electrocuted. More of the staff yelled through the loud speaker.

"This is your performance simulation for the day. Keep running."

I was alarmed. The corps looked beat up. All of them were stripped down as far as decency allowed, trying to get as cool as possible. They rounded the corners of the field and headed back to the fifty. They were all breathing hard. I spotted Matt and Phil towards the middle of the field. Matt had hollows under his eyes and his ribs looked more visible than usual. Phil was bent over double, trying to get more air. One of the staff was talking over the loudspeaker again.

"You have thirty seconds to get to your opening set. Then we start. Go." The corps members scattered to their sets. I saw the girl who had been in charge of waking everyone up climb wearily onto the center podium.

"Performance energy," said the voice. "You're performing now." The drum major counted off the beginning of the show. Time seemed to slow down for me as her arms moved.

It was different than last night. The people on the field in front of me were not dressed in proud uniforms, in a well groomed stadium in front of thousands of fans. They were tired, mostly naked, and played with an edge of desperation that comes from exhaustion. The show wavered in the first minute. I looked at those standing the closest in front of me. They had come to a halt in a grouping of pods.

My eyes locked with Phil's. I don't know how he was so easy for me to spot, but it was as if lightening struck the field. I saw him smile slightly and wink at me. The first percussion break was just ending. Phil's face disappeared again as his horn snapped up for the next brass entrance. The lightening reappeared on the field, this time coming out of the horn line's instruments. The hit was so intense that I staggered where I stood. My mom reached down for my hand without looking, and let out a cheer. The other parents looked at her oddly for a moment. The next hit in the music came. This time, there were multiple voices supporting my mother's yell, including mine.

The music grew stronger as the corps surged forward with renewed energy. I don't know where it came from. They just kept going faster and faster, until they were flying around the field, belting out the finale. I wasn't even aware I was jumping up and down and screaming until one of the moms put her hand on my shoulder. But I didn't care. I wanted to cheer for this group of musicians and dancers for forever. The final notes died away, and the members stayed frozen on the field.

"So how did you guys feel about that?" said the loudspeaker voice. A roar answered from the field. I wouldn't have been surprised if they could have done the whole show again, just from adrenaline. "Business, then showers. Good job, guys."

Mom and I started heading up the hill with the other volunteers while the corps was still talking. I heard them chatting about how nice it would be to have a break from serving for a meal. Mom laughed and said that the kids would enjoy eating out somewhere too. I guessed they would be on their own for dinner while doing laundry. A hamburger did sound good at that point…

I staked out a place in the shade by the food truck and slid to the ground. Tiredness was hitting me like a brick wall. I dozed in and out for a while. I wasn't quite sure what was happening when a pair of feet stopped in front of me. I felt someone shake my shoulder, trying to wake me up.

"Hey," said Phil. He had showered and put a shirt back on. "Are you ok?" I nodded and let him pull me up to my feet.

"Good," he said, pulling me towards him in a hug. "I know your mom probably worked you almost as hard as we did today."

"Just a little," I said.

"Do you want to walk for a bit?" he asked. I nodded, and we walked along between the buildings next to the gym. "I'm glad you got to stay and watch our final run-through," he said. "Seeing you on the sideline helped more than anything." I smiled up at him.

"I thought you guys did awesome." I frowned. "Do they always make you sprint like that before a run-through?" Phil grimaced.

"No," he said. "That was just a crazy end to a crazy day." He sighed. "A day that has been more awesome and more horrible than any other."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I didn't want today to have been horrible. He pulled me close to him again, not quite into a hug. His arms rested around me.

"I don't know if I will ever see you again," he said, looking down. Those words sliced through my blooming heart like a knife. I closed my eyes to keep them from overflowing. I had been so stupid, easily swayed by the first guy who paid me a compliment…

"Believe me, I wish it was different," he said. I just shrugged.

"Why?" I asked. His fingers pushed my chin up until I was looking into his eyes.

"Because I would be able to make you mine," he whispered. "Well," he amended, "I would have to figure out how to convince your parents not to kill me, and then I would be able to borrow you on occasion when they let me." The tears that had been lurking behind my eyes started to evaporate. I smiled at him, feeling shy and flattered.

"You never know," I said. "Life is very strange." He laughed.

"I'm going to count on that," he said, drawing me into his arms. I laid my head against the cool Under Armor of his chest. A patch on his jacket rubbed my ear. How quickly I had gotten used to his arms wrapped around me. I was going to miss this feeling. His head moved down, and suddenly our lips were once again together. The approach of someone's footsteps coming around the corner cut the wonderful moment short.

"Phil!" someone shouted as we pulled apart. "We're leaving." Phil sighed, and kissed my nose.

"Duty calls," he said. "I'm coming, Joey!" he called as we walked back down the hallway. People were scurrying out of the gym, grabbing last minute forgotten items. We reached the buses in time for me to hug my brother and wave him onto the bus. Phil followed him up the stairs, winking at me before disappearing into the mass of bodies. I turned to see my mom and dad next to a different bus. I headed over to them, stopping short of hearing distance.

I flung my arms around him after he let go of Mom.

"Can I please come with you?" I asked in a desperate last attempt. He laughed a little without humor.

"Not this year, my rainbow-bug," he said, kissing my forehead. "Not this year." He turned and slung his backpack over his back before heading up the stairs into the bus. I saw him through the window in the middle of the bus.

"I'll see you at Christmas," he mouthed to us. The buses started, belching diesel fumes.

I stood there with my mom, waving them off. They turned the corner down the road that lead to the main street and the freeway entrance. I wondered if Phil and Matt were watching as we waved. I knew my dad was. A sudden thought struck me. I jammed my fists into my jacket pockets in frustration. I hadn't even thought to acquire Phil's phone number. My mom patted my back, still gazing after the fleet of vehicles we could no longer see. She could tell I was upset, even if she wasn't sure of the reason. I looked up at her face. She looked so lost, so anguished; I took a step towards her to give her a hug. How long the two of us stood there on the hilltop clutching each other, I don't know. Finally, as the shadows lengthened, we got in our car to make our way back…home?

I guess we were going home. The magazine house was as much home as anything else was now. But if home is supposed to be where the heart is, more than two-thirds of my home was on a northbound bus that had left without me. I stared out the window as the forests and mountains zoomed past. I would make it a home, like I promised Matt I would. It wouldn't be perfect without them, but I would try.

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_A/n- by the way, reviews are amazing. You ALL should write one. Even if it's just to say hi. :)_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/n- Happy Spring Semester! Obviously, this means reading about band camp... :) All characters and events are mine and used fictitiously. _

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We didn't get back home until well after midnight, into early Monday morning. I was just sincerely grateful that band camp was not until the next week. Well, maybe I was. I would have died after a full band camp rehearsal that morning. Even if my mom had the strength of Superwoman to pull her through, I didn't. But the rest of the week allowed me only to return to my wallowing in misery… I still had no friends here to speak of, and seeing the male half of my family for a day just made me crazier with loneliness and missing them.

Most of my aggravations were taken out on the battered old drum set that sat in the back of the Drum Cave. Mom had guessed how much I needed that beat-up dinosaur. I caught her in the Drum Cave, looking at the heads and checking the lugs. A few days later I found and invoice for new heads and hardware on the counter in the band room. I didn't say anything, but I tried to remember to turn her coffee on for her more often. I had to do something to let her know that I knew she was trying. I think both of us were still pretty miserable in the days following the show in Gadsden.

The general temperament of the Stephens' Household, Southside Chapter, disintegrated even more after my mother got a call from the school district saying that she was not allowed to extend band camp to a full week after all. She would have three days at it, the Wednesday to Friday before school started. Needless to say, this did not bode well for the next school board meeting. There was no chance my controlling mother wouldn't find out who had made that decision. When she did, I was going to fear for their lives. In the meanwhile, though, we both drove each other crazy trying to figure out how to shove a weeks worth of information and practice into three day's time.

I listened down the stairs at night when Mom made the necessary phone calls to everyone registered in marching band. She informed them of the change from the letter they had received earlier in the summer. Most of the time I got the feeling the kids weren't overly sad to have their summer lengthened by two days.

Instead of having a rookie day to introduce all the freshmen and new marchers to the universe that was my mother's band, we were going to have to start full out with everyone there from day one. I almost felt sorry for the freshmen. Unless you grew up with marching band, the first day of band camp could be pretty intimidating.

So, the Wednesday before school, while most kids were still going to the movies and shopping and whatever else kids did around here, my mom and I were dragging ourselves to Aspen Point High School, home of the mighty Lancers, at some ungodly hour of the morning. And it was already hot. Bleh.

I had never seen my mom so frustrated. She stalked around the room, looking shaken and upset. I sat in a corner, sorting music, while I heard her on the telephone in her office arguing with someone over whether or not we could use the football field. Finally, with some sharp parting words, she stomped out of her office.

"We have to go put some lines out on some other practice field. That's the only thing we're allowed to use right now." I sighed and put the music down. It was mostly done anyway. It wasn't that I minded painting the field. It was the bone-headed admin that decided that we didn't need to be told about it. That pissed me off almost as much as Mom. I scowled as I grabbed the field kit and headed off after Mom for the far-off baseball practice fields.

Painting a field wasn't that big of a deal, if you knew how to do it and had a good five or six people to help you. It was a pain in the butt when there were only two of us, and one of those two was busy taking out all her frustrations on the other so she didn't scare all her new students away. I knew my mother wasn't really mad at me, but it still took a lot of self control not to snap back at her, as we trudged around the too-long grass with cans of chalk paint and string and a measuring tape. I tried to focus on how pretty the looming forest was behind the field. It looked like something out of Jurassic Park. I was waiting to hear the velociraptors any second. I kind of liked it.

The sun was shining through the mist and had almost peeked out over the trees when we were walking back up the hill. It was muggy, even though it was only 7:30 in the morning. Great. Lovely hot _mugginess_ to deal with, in addition to the fact that Mom was already short-fused and we had to basically cram five days work into three.

There were a few kids crowded around the band room by the time we lurched back up the hill. A few of them looked at me, but didn't say anything, so I just followed my mom back inside. I don't do friendly mingling before eight in the morning. I'm much more of a grunt as you drag your equipment out to warm up, then exchange niceties after type person. The group seemed just as content to ignore me, going to a different corner of the room next to the racks of stands while I finished sorting the music for everyone. I caught snippets of their conversation as I double-checked the number of flute parts for the warm-up we were learning today.

"I don't know where Mark is…"

"Has anyone heard from Lisa yet?"

"Ooh, did you hear she made out with some guy from LeRoy this summer?"

"No, when did you hear that?"

More kids continued to filter in, breaking off from the big group to form smaller ones. I noticed some of them were wearing jeans, and one boy had some weird skater shoe that looked very closely related to Bozo's. The guy could barely walk straight… how did he think he was going to march? I rolled my eyes, stacking up all the music into neat piles. I was about to pull out the snare music from the bottom of the pile and go practice, just for something to do, when the lights were suddenly blocked out by a tall figure.

A boy stood in front of me, his arms crossed, with a leery grin on his face. I smiled cautiously.

"And what do we have here?" he asked in a drawling voice. He was looking down with his arms crossed. I guess he wasn't bad looking, but you could almost smell the ego rolling off of him in waves. Whoever he was, he though he was hot shit.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you here before," he continued. "Please let me introduce myself." By this time, most of the gossiping mob was turned towards us. Some were trying to be discrete, but I saw one girl point in my direction. The boy held out his hand to help me up off of the floor. I accepted it, and felt the strong muscles tense as he hoisted me up. He did have nice arms. I brushed myself off as I stood up with the handful of snare music. He caught the hand with the music by the wrist.

"Well, now, maybe we don't need introducing after all," he said, still grinning. "Seeing as you already had my music out for me." I was no longer smiling. He either didn't notice, or didn't care, that he still held on to my wrist.

"I guess I still don't know your name, but then names do only complicate things. But since you're such a pretty little thing, I guess you can know mine. I'm Jack, drum captain." He pulled my wrist towards him and kissed it.

They say that if you ever meet an unfriendly dog not to show fear. The dog will sense it somehow, almost like a smell, and it only encourages them. I don't know if I was more terrified or pissed off by that point. I was contemplating whether screaming for help or punching him would be more effective when out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom sidle over through the masses. Most of them were openly pointing and whispering now.

"MacFlellan, I don't know if where you come from manhandling women is encouraged, but in this band, mauling a fellow member will get you kicked out." I had never been so happy to hear my mother's sharp voice. It cut through the steadily rising babble, freezing the boy who still held my wrist in his tracks.

"That means let her go, in case you were wondering," Mom said, her voice even harsher. I tried to not let the relief show in my face as he dropped my arm to turn around and stare at my mom. By this point, she had a full out death glare plastered on her face, all aimed at Jack MacFlellan. He was still wondering what happened (I could see the gears turning in his head as he was trying to figure out who this woman was, and if he should challenge her or not) in the time it took Mom to look at the clock, glance around at the surrounding mob, and pull out her whistle. I knew enough to cover my ears, but the rest had no idea. Three sharp blasts brought cries of pain from those standing closest. My mom climbed onto a nearby chair so she could see out over everyone. I doubted anyone else noticed, but I saw the almost manic glint in her eye as she took a breath to address her newest victims.

"Good morning, Aspen Point," she said, her voice carrying over the whole room. Every face was pointed towards her. "My name is Ms. Stephens. I am your new director. I'm sorry band camp was changed in such short notice, but recovery is 90% of the score. We're going to go over the basics of music and marching today, so I can get an idea of where you are all at." She paused to look around. I had taken the opportunity to slide away from MacFlellan while she was talking. I now stood besides a tall girl with straight brown hair and bangs. She smiled at me. I tried to return the favor, but my mouth seemed to be stuck. I ended up just nodding instead.

"Announcements for the day before we get down to business," Mom was continuing from her chair perch. "I have no record of anything from your old teacher. So anyone who is interested in becoming part of the student leadership needs to sign up on the paper on my office door. Make sure to put your name, grade, instrument, and position you are applying for. This includes all section leaders. Auditions and interviews will be during lunch today." She paused again to look at her clipboard. She smiled as she read the other announcement off.

"Drum line will be set today after lunch. Winds will have a half an hour warm up sectional, and then we will all meet back together to go over music." She clapped her hands together. "Alright. It is," she said, looking at the clock, "8:07. You all have until 8:15 to be down at the practice baseball field with water, sun block, and instruments. Drums, just bring sticks. Sign up for leadership auditions if you want to. I better not beat anyone down there. Ready, Break." She clapped again and got down off of the chair into the chaos that was breaking out around her. She made her way over to me.

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_A/n- Plenty of people have been reading this, but not reviewing. Reviews make better writers. :) And more frequent chapter updates. _


	10. Chapter 10

_A/n- Sorry for the delay. School is almost out, and there are many more chapters on the way. :)_

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"Are you ok?" she asked in a low voice. I nodded. She nodded back to me, and turned to go get her stuff out of her office. I went back to the corner I had dumped my backpack and water jug in, and grabbed them both. As I turned around, I bumped into the girl I had been standing by before. She grinned at me again, and stuck out the hand that didn't have a trombone case in it.

"I'm Emily," she said. Her hazel eyes were very pretty, even if her face was a bit on the chubby side. I shook her hand, smiling back at her for reals this time.

"Hope," I said. I looked over my shoulder, searching for MacFlellan. Emily laughed.

"Let's go, before he catches you again." I nodded and pushed for the door.

"So where's your instrument?" Emily asked curiously as we trotted down the hill to the deserted practice field. All I had with me was my backpack and water jug. I smiled.

"Teacher said drummers just had to carry sticks. I guess we just lucked out today." It felt weird referring to her as "teacher," but whatev. I looked at Emily, but she wasn't smiling anymore.

"You play drums?" she said skeptically. Now I was confused.

"Snare, actually," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "Why? What's the big deal?"

"It's just, we, uh, don't have girls on the drum line."

"So?" I asked. "You do now. One anyway." She just shook her head and kept walking.

"What's the big deal?" I asked again. "You play trombone."

"I'm the only girl that plays trombone. The only other girl that plays brass is Chelsea, and she plays French horn."

"Oh." I said. I smiled. "Well, a three to thirty girl to boy ratio… at least those are good odds." I was my mother's daughter, at heart. By this point we reached the field. Out of habit, I put all my stuff on side two outside the thirty five yard lines. Emily followed me, setting her stuff with mine. She watched as I pulled a bottle of sunscreen out of my backpack and squeezed a great dollop of it into my hand. I was smearing it into my face when she asked, "Why are you putting sun-block on?" I looked at her, confused again.

"Because we are going to be out here for a four-hour practice block and I burn in the sun?" I answered. I tied all my hair back and dug around in my back pack for a battered hat and sunglasses.

"Four hours?" Emily scoffed. "Yeah. I don't think so." I shrugged, and started glopping the thick lotion on my legs. We weren't on Astroturf, so the reflected glare wouldn't be too bad, but still, better safe than sorry.

"Whatever floats your boat," I said. She bit her lip, looking worried.

"Can I use some of that, just in case?" she asked. I nodded and tossed it to her. I leaned over, stretching out the backs of my legs. I hadn't done a whole lot of physical activity over the summer, and I didn't want to get beat up the first day. Through the triangle window of my legs, I saw the rest of the band crawling up the hill. I spotted my mom coming round the bend, ushering the laggers up. I chuckled to myself. These kids had no clue what they were in for. I straightened up and stretched out my arms, starting with the shoulders and working my way down to my forearms and wrists.

I spied Jack over on the field itself, surrounded by six or so other guys. They all had their sticks out and were twirling them, or had them shoved in their back pockets. I didn't particularly like the looks of any of them, but that could have just been my dislike for MacFlellan.

I took a drink out of my water jug, trying to hydrate before I was going to sweat it all out. I was nodding at something Emily babbled on about, watching as my mom got to the top of the hill. I checked my phone one last time before throwing it in my back pack. 8:14. Time to party. I think I startled Emily as I leapt up from the ground and wandered casually over to the middle of the fifty yard line. She didn't argue but followed me.

I was nodding at something she said, but really was wondering how hard-core my mom wanted to be today. If she wanted to play drum corps, we would end up running a mile or two before starting basics. If not, we would just stretch and go right into the positions of attention, parade rest, etc. I weighed my options. Given my severe hatred of basics, I was ready to volunteer us all to run first. That probably wouldn't have earned me any friends. I was saved from having to make the decision when I heard my mom calling over the hubbub.

"Everyone run down and touch the fence at the bottom of the hill, then come back up. Ready go!" she barked as some people stared at her in disbelief. "The longer you stand there staring at me, the longer this block goes, so hurry up!" she said, traces of a grin on her face. I grinned back and turned to start jogging down the hill. I heard Emily puffing behind me. It wasn't very far away, but a lot of kids got to the bottom and stopped, and started walking back. I kept jogging, trying to avoid the holes in the uneven ground as best I could.

I had thought I was out of shape, but I was among the first back up to the field. Mom winked at me as I made my way to my water jug. I sat down and stretched out my calves while watching the rest of the band stagger back up the hill. I knew without looking that my mom was growing more and more irritated the longer it took. Finally, the last couple of people made their way up the hill, not meeting my mother's eyes as they grabbed their little water bottles. She was expressionless as she waited three seconds after they opened their waters before blowing the whistle and going over the fifty again.

"Everyone form a block. Seven across the top, please. If you're a rookie, get in line behind someone else." People started running around, not wanting to be in the front rank. That lasted about a second before my mom's voice cut through the crowd again.

"I want seven people across this yard line, with their hands raised up." I sighed, finding myself moving up to be the right corner of the block. I raised my right hand in a fist, and watched Emily scoot in behind me.

Mom stood next to the center file, waiting for quiet. It came almost instantaneously. She looked around, smiling. I'm sure she was picking out the vets by their attention stance and the rookies by their fear and misplaced limbs. She quickly paced out the block. Even though I was a good four steps away from the boy who was on my left, I still had to move over a few paces to accommodate those who had no spatial sense in the middle of the block. I was careful not to let my mother see my eyes roll back at the lack of spacing. The block fidgeted as a whole. My mom wandered back through the block, adjusting a hand here, pushing a chin up there. She turned back around as she came to the front of the block.

"Welcome to band camp. We have a lot to do, and three days to do it in. By the time camp is over, we should be ready to start putting your competitive show for the season together when school starts." She stopped pacing at the front of the block. "You're going to be through a lot in the next three days, physically and mentally. So to start, we're going to stretch out now that your muscles are nice and warm." She released us from the attention position, and she taught the group most of the stretches I had already done, working out kinks in the legs and the arms, loosening up muscles that would be screaming by then end of the day.

As we went through the stretches, the sixty or so people began to wake up. Laughter and jokes started moving along with the blood through the block. Mom was doing the stretches too at the front of the block, on the far side from mine. She was laughing and talking with the kids who were within talking distance, which might have been the first three rows. I looked over and saw the kids were laughing and smiling back, and the tension level of the whole group had lowered at least three notches. We finished all the basic stretches and my mom's grin widened. I knew what was coming next.

"Everyone on their butts," she called. She plopped down on the ground next to the top rank, still smiling. "We're going to start our ab exercise series. For the first one, you guys keep your legs, arms and head raised, with your hands keeping time until we get to one hundred." I felt the protest of my stomach muscles as my hands kept time with my mom's. I heard some people panting around me.

"Don't speed up!" Mom called out. "You all need to keep the same time, even when your energy is running out! Otherwise, you'll blow the end of your show. Stick together!" A few more moments passed and the panting got heavier. "And down!" Mom said. She led us through the rest of the abdominal work series, finishing with the Spinning Bicycle of Doom. Death. Herpes. Whatever.

"And here we go!" I have yet to figure out how being a teacher makes one hyper. My mom has it down pat, though. She was positively giddy as she bounced back up, ready to define Attention and start marching. And she didn't even have coffee this morning. I checked.

"I want you to fall into the position of attention. Keep your heels together, and your toes about a fist length apart. It should be about a 90 degree angle." Most of the block was looking down at their feet. I wondered if they were all rookies. A fifty percent rookie rate wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't going to be a cake season, either. My mother continued to give instructions in the front of the block.

"Keep your weight over the balls of your feet; it should feel like you're leaning forward. You will have a straight line between your ankles, your knees and your shoulders. Don't lock your knees or you'll pass out. And then we'll laugh at you. First I'll make sure you're ok, and then I'll laugh at you. Shoulders should be back and down so there is no tension in the neck and chest. Arms are slightly bent at your side. Your chin is up and your eyes are with pride. Pride, Mr. Taylor. That means no twitching…" And this went on. And on. Maybe for twenty minutes. Which was probably record time or something close for getting a group of kids to stand together at attention, but it was twenty minutes of just standing there for me.

I wished I had my drum and could practice the music. I wasn't overly worried about auditions. I had been playing drums with the best since I was born. If I didn't make it, I didn't deserve to. The sun beat down on us, and I felt a bead of sweat roll from my hat down my nose. Twitching my face helped a little and after that I tried to ignore it. I was glad that I could stand at attention for hours. I could probably sleep at attention, if I had to.

Eventually we moved on to Parade Rest, which wasn't very restful, but was usually important. The block seemed to drag on and on. It sucked, because I knew my mom didn't like teaching like this either. Her usual method of delegation wasn't going to work because there was no one to delegate to. She had no other staff to depend on, no student leadership to step up to the responsibility. Breaking the band up into smaller groups to be taught by the section leaders was out of the question. I still had no clue who the drum major was. If we even had a drum major. So I stood in the block, helping the people around me when I could during the relaxed time, and stood there when we were supposed to stand there. She finally did catch me rolling my eyes, though. She rolled her eyes back at me, and called for a water break.

"And now, we're going to take everything you just learned," she said as kids quickly drained their little water bottles, "and we're going to change it. Everyone break out your instruments, and get in the block. Don't worry about standing in sections. Move!"

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_A/n- thank you for continuing to follow the story. :) Share with your friends, and the more reviews I get make me feel guilty enough to update often. ;)_


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